#and I made this for meeee

[smracaraihc]

30!!!! 🫠🫣🙈🤷🏻‍♀️

[nevesceramics]

great blue heron bell

cone 04 terracotta, underglaze, glaze, wire, cotton thread

[inkydiamonds]

I HAVE REALIZED SOMETHING.

So. For people who are not Ethoslab watchers, in his most recent episode he showed off these beautiful statues Joel supposedly made of Etho in front of his house.

I figured Joel built them, and it seems Etho did too, because he sent Joel a message via mail about them.

This note... honestly surprised me a bit? I didn't think much of it at first, but the tone of it felt out of place. Obviously these two have this ongoing bit of being obsessed with each other, and they've done nothing recently but yes-and to the sun about it. This note seems to almost shut this bit down, saying "this bit hasn't gone too far yet, because I'm showing this on camera, but it's getting there." Which is a possible explanation for this note! But considering all they've done recently it feels very sudden.

And then. Joel claimed to not have built the statues. "Oh," I thought. "Joel is claiming not to have built the statues because he doesn't want to seem obsessed." Makes sense. Or maybe he *didn't* build the statues and someone is pranking them. That also makes sense.

But it was only when watching Joel talk about it on Impulse's stream, when I heard Joel say "honestly, I think Etho might have done it," that it clicked.

Oh.

This motherfucker.

He 100% did. That's why the message is so weird. Ethoslab built statues of himself outside Joel's base, messaged him via mail saying "that's kinda weird bro" and then DIDN'T EVER REVEAL THAT HE BUILT THEM. Oh my god THIS MAN...

From Etho's audience's perspective it just looks like Joel was continuing being obsessed with Etho, as usual, just another example in a long list. But *Joel* knows he didn't do that and *Etho* knows Joel will figure out who did. This mischievous motherfucker. Oh my godddd I hate them. Listening to him read back the note with that little smile in his voice. I am unwell. Why are they LIKE this

[1alchemistart]

have a ms chimken

[corgiteatime]

yeah sure i'm fine i'm totally normal i'm ok i'm fine i'm normal i'm n

[acheronist]

hickey's knife super interesting for obvious reasons, but also have you guys ever see some of the other knifes that got fashioned / salvaged from the wrecks.... especially the inuit-made ones....

like these are very beautiful to MEEEEE

[violetriorsons]

it just keeps getting funnier how tairn keeps reaching record-breaking levels of single dad energy

i'm barely on chapter 20 but his life up to this point has pretty much consisted of:

"I just put the baby down for a nap!!"

threatening the school principal for trying to murder picking on violet

"DON'T WAKE THE BABY!!"

very short date nights once a week with sgaeyl where i'm sure too much time is wasted catching up on all the kids

keeping violet from breaking her neck with extreme gymnastics

DON'T. WAKE. THE BABY.

[serafisolaris]

just a snippet

[girlboyburger]

new icon ♡ 🌈⋆｡° ☀️ 🐮°｡⋆

[dialtownbutinthe80s]

Chibo and Price I miss them

[degenerateshinji]

bang

[meownotgood]

"I will never read x reader it's just weird and they're always badly written" OKAY WELL NOT ME!!! GIVE ME ALL THE X READERS!!!!!! ME AND ALL MY FAVES ARE KISSING FOREVER

[speakofcompersion]

Key 'Tongue Tied' MV Teaser

[samijey]

'That's your father' chants intensify

[daftpatience]

im puttin these all together I LOVE THEM I HOPE EVERYONE PUTS BABY DIGIT AND HIS SIBLINGS IN SITUATIONS

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

(i love you, i love you (kill me in the morning) ; bonus part)

kenjaku rests on a tatami mat, admiring the ephemeral glow of the starry sky.

it’s a sight to behold, truly: the infinity within it, blooming endlessly across the milky way, before his very eyes. that swirling of indigo and pure white. endless possibilities, just out of reach — so close he can almost reach out and touch them, feel them glide across the skin of his fingertips.

slowly and sweetly, savouring the cold air, he ponders. legs crossed, hair swaying gently in the summer breeze; about this, and about that. about a plan that’s been resting in the back of his mind for thousands of years.

he wonders if there is any way you could be of use to him. 

without too much contemplation needed, he decides that there isn’t. that nothing about you could benefit his goal, that there’s nothing your presence could possibly accomplish. that you have no place, in the world he resides in, no place in the narrative of the story he is crafting. no place in the clash between curses and sorcerers and everything in between.

(and kenjaku understands, without needing to peek into his host’s memories, that perhaps that is exactly why suguru geto loved you.)

he goes to visit you, anyway. just for the fun of it, just to satisfy the ingrained urge his body has to do so. and it’s fascinating, it truly is — the fondness that sprouts in the confines of his chest when his eyes meet yours. a childhood muscle memory, one this body could never fully rid itself of. 

it is nothing short of horrified, the expression on your face; you look like you could pass out any second, and kenjaku finds it just a little bit amusing. 

but he bites back a laugh, and his lips curl up into a smile. not the smile of a people-pleaser, nor the smile of a liar, but the smile of something rather monstrous.

kenjaku does not think you will figure him out. he does not think it possible. how could you possibly? with such miniscule cursed energy, without any concept of the soul? 

and yet you do.

you tell him that he isn’t suguru geto, and you’re absolutely right. and now, kenjaku is maybe just the slightest bit intrigued.

(how strange. how amusing.

is there really no limit to what love can accomplish?)

eyes shining with barely contained, gleeful curiosity, he takes a step forward, and you call out for a dead man. a ghost. kenjaku does not expect anything to happen, because how could it?

— a hand comes up to squeeze at his throat.

it is a firm grip, with strangulation as its intended purpose. a lethal kind of ferocity. almost desperate, primal, like a mother wolf protecting her cub; the pads of his lithe fingers press into the sides of his own esophagus, and prevent any air from entering his lungs. those chipped nails dig into his pale skin, vicious and ruthless, hard enough to draw blood.

it is violent, it is gritty, it is devoted. an instinct of the body, as natural as the beating of a heart.

kenjaku can’t help it — he chokes on a laugh, as suguru’s hand curls around his throat. within the vice grip lies an old promise, molded into the very fabric of his being. a promise that transcends death.

he’ll protect you forever. 

kenjaku smiles, all teeth. drool dribbling down his chin, neck bruised and bloodied. pondering; about this, and about that. about two children by a dusty summer creek.

(no matter what, huh?

— such a fool.)